


A rock and a hard place

by katiebuttercup



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, F/M, Family Feels, M/M, Sibling Bonding, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England's brothers forget to mention one little detail at Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	A rock and a hard place

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Thinking Without Thinking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/630546) by [moonlighten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlighten/pseuds/moonlighten). 



> Reworked with the kind permission of Moonlighten who has been nothing but supportive and helpful. I would really, really recommend reading the original version as well as the rest of the series because it's good beyond words. This is my meagre offering 
> 
> Beta read by Moonlighten (squee) 
> 
> All mistakes are mine when copying and pasting in iPad
> 
> Disclaimer: hetalia belongs to its respective owners and the concept of the fic is entirely Moonlighten's

26th December, 2009; London, England

Sometimes, England thought the universe had horrible ways of ensuring she paid for her past sins. 

She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her when, on Boxing Day morning just before the family five a side match, America had appeared at her door. 

Up until then she had managed to keep her thoughts strictly on Christmas: ensuring that the holiday went as smoothly as possible, and that each person could go back to ignoring each other peaceably for another year. America had only entered her thoughts briefly, but now he was here and England found she couldn't think of anything else. 

"Hey, England, sorry I'm late, but travelling over the vacation is a bitch. It's still Christmas for you guys, right?" 

"Barely, but it counts, I suppose." England took a step back so that America could move into the hallway. He shrugged off his jacket revealing a smart shirt and jeans. 

"Nice outfit," America said as he turned a full circle in the narrow space, and faced her again. 

She looked down; her yoga top, running bottoms and hoodie were certainly different than the suits she usually wore at meetings. 

"Scotland's got a five aside going just before lunch," 

America's gaze felt heavy on her. "You''re wearing that to play soccer?" There was a strange emphasis in America's voice that England couldn't place. 

Sure she was being made fun of and suddenly feeling very aware of her bare stomach and low cut top, England crossed her arms over her chest. 

"No, and it's football because you actually use your feet. I was about to get changed into something a little warmer." 

America shrugged off the distinction 

"Won't you just get hot running around?" 

That was precisely the reason she had chosen her outfit. The hoodie would keep her warm until the match got into full swing and the yoga top kept her from sweating when it did. She just didn't feel comfortable wearing it around America. Although her top being skin tight worked for exercise, she felt strangely vulnerable wearing it in his presence. There was far too much of her on show and America's gaze was far too penetrating to be entirely comfortable, especially since England couldn't think of a plausible reason why he should be looking at her in such a manner. 

She was saved from having to answer by Australia's almost howl of greeting, and quickly stepped out of the way as the two men greeted each other in something that resembled a half hug and half rugby tackle. In moments, Australia had dragged the laughing America into the kitchen and England was left in the echoing silence trying to sort through her conflicting emotions. 

She was glad to see America, it brought her undeniable pleasure to be in his presence;] a wild, dizzy feeling that made her feel more alive than she had felt for the longest time. On the other hand, she was pissed off that her brothers had "forgotten" to tell her about inviting America for Christmas; or at least that was what she assumed had happened since she hadn't invited him. The problem was England needed a certain amount of preparation before talking to America just to make sure that the facade that she had created was firmly in place. Right now she felt unmoored and unsteady. 

At least she wouldn't be alone. It was a safe bet that America's attention would be diverted by Australia, so the amount of time she'd have to deal with him would be minimal. 

She hoped so, anyway. 

X 

The game was surprisingly enjoyable. The rules very quickly dissolved into the bastard child of rugby and American football, and so England had taken that as a cue to sit the game out as the outcome of the game seemed to be who could get covered in the most mud and grass. Spreading her hoodie onto the grass, and pulling her t shirt over her head she let herself sprawl inelegantly onto it. 

England blinked back into full consciousness, disturbed by the noise of the wrestling match between Australia and America, which was apparently a continuation of their earlier fight. England opened her mouth to tell them both to act their age, but the words lodged in her throat. 

Australia seemed to have every intention of feeding America his shirt, and in the process had yanked up his shirt high enough for England to glimpse the vast expanse of golden skin beneath. 

England breathed deeply trying to keep her hormones in check; she wasn't a teenager in either human or nation terms, she would control herself. Her fingernails dug into the soft skin of her palms but it wasn't enough. 

Something hard hit her in the side of the head and England whipped to the side, her face contorted into anger at the innocent football laying bedside her. 

"Heads up, wench!" 

"What the fuck!" England swore as Scotland jogged over to her, towering above her, cutting off her view of the field. She fought against the ancient reflex to lash out at her brother in retaliation. 

"Get a grip, woman!" Scotland's voice was pitched low so that only she heard him. 

"I know, alright!" England hissed back. "You think I like feeling like this? Feeling like a fool at every turn?" 

Scotland squatted beside her, the ball sitting at his feet. "I told you before, you're going to have to decide what you want to do before it drives you mad. Punch him or fuck him. Shit or get off the pot." 

England looked away, stubbornly. "It's not that easy," 

"Maybe not," Scotland allowed, "but it isn't as complicated as you're making it." Scotland made a dismissive gesture. "I don't give a shit, but you've been acting like one of those soppy period dramas. It almost takes the fun out of taking the piss." 

"Take the piss out of this, Alba." Dodging her brother, England got to her feet, keeping the ball skillfully between them, and took aim at the goal that Canada was half heartedly defending. 

She shot. She scored. 

"What the hell was that?" America demanded and England could clearly hear the admiration in his voice. 

"Just teaching Alba a lesson about misreading a situation and his little sister," England said. She glanced at Scotland who gave her the finger, so England knew that her thank you had been accepted.


End file.
